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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30146886">the ocean would've been a better place to swim</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiccgirlsmakemesob/pseuds/thiccgirlsmakemesob'>thiccgirlsmakemesob</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i am projecting onto a certain youtuber :/ [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bad Person Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hybrid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Implied Immortality, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kinda, Memory Loss, Panic Attacks, Ram Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Sad Parental Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sad everyone, Self-Hatred, Suicide, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, he wants to make things right but two of his fucking kids are dead, probably not too much comfort tbh, this is sad bro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:42:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,162</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30146886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiccgirlsmakemesob/pseuds/thiccgirlsmakemesob</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>tommy dies. he was supposed to at least. </p>
<p>he's not sure what he is anymore, but that's fine.</p>
<p>no one was around to check on him anyway.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) &amp; Everyone, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i am projecting onto a certain youtuber :/ [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>379</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. to see clara he would need to fly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tommy hated the cold. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t always. It used to remind him of playing with his brothers and Phil made them tea. It used to remind him of swimming way too early in the year. It would remind him of Tubbo’s weird cold hands. It used to remind him of home.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nowadays, Tommy wonders why he ever loved it. Cold tells him how he should probably be dead, skin stretched around cold bones and an empty stomach that pinched him. Reminds him of the ocean he wakes up in everyday, with ice cold water filling his lungs as he tries desperately to get to land and cough it all out. It’s what surrounds him at night, when he’s alone in his tent on something that barely counted as a bed and a shitty blanket. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s sure he looks like shit. But no one cares enough to actually check on him. Even Dream, his best friend, had finally grown tired of him. Tommy had been trying </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> hard to be on his best behavior so he could have at least some company now that Ghostbur had abandoned him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t work, obviously. Now he was alone. Sitting in the nether, staring at the bubbling lava below him. In his hand he had his discs and the compass. He didn’t need the compass anymore, Tubbo hated him, was so annoyed with Tommy that he had exiled him. Tommy wonders briefly what would happen if Wilbur had fallen down this road, rather than the one that led to Tommy’s home being destroyed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy kept the compass.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Some small part of him hoped for someone to walk through the portal, he didn’t hope for them to worry or care for him, he wasn’t stupid, but he did want someone to see. So more than just him and the mobs walking around aimlessly, and the lava that would soon consume him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t matter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On shaky legs he stood up, stretching out his nonexistent muscles and shuffled just a little closer to the edge of the pathway leading back to his…. home. Tommy sets the compass down, part of him hoping that it somehow stays with him even if he leaves it there and the other part hoping he never sees it again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He held the discs close to his chest, softly humming how Chirp, Tommy hopes he gets to meet Clara and give her her disc back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dry, hot air enters weak and damaged lungs, burning Tommy’s throat. He smiled, he would finally be free. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he flew somewhere better.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Tommyinnit tried swimming in lava. 0 lives left.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nobody was really sure what to do. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This was the fourth permadeath. Wilbur and Schlatt had come back, but Mexican Dream had stayed dead. Would Tommy come back?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Why was Tommy even in the Nether in the first place? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo stared at his communicator, willing the message to change, but it never did. Tubbo prayed that Tommy had just fallen or was attacked, because the idea of his best friend killing himself… God, what had Tubbo done.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil, Techno, and Ghostbur had been together when they got the message. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A few moments beforehand Ghostbur had begun freaking out, crying and shaking but unable to actually tell the two men what was wrong. He didn’t have to say anything, because once their communicators beeped loudly, they knew who Ghostbur had felt entering the void.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil stayed and comforted Ghostbur, silently grieving the fact that he lost another son. Phil learned later that Techno had left to pack, demanding they go to L’manburg and learn about what had happened to his youngest brother. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The blond could only agree.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo had sent out a party, in hopes of finding Tommy’s body, and even if everyone knew it was pointless, they still searched anyway, hoping maybe the lava hadn’t swallowed Tommy whole.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had set up a city wide meeting, discussing the plans of Tommy’s memorial and burial. Tubbo held in his emotions, even as he heard Niki sobbing, and Quackity’s yelling telling them all that Tommy couldn’t actually be dead, and even as a crying Phil entered with a distressed Ghostbur and angry Technoblade at hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo could barely process what had been happening, just focusing on getting his speech done and setting up the next meeting. Phil’s eyes remained on the young president the entire time. The blond was ignored. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The second the meeting ended Tubbo fled, offering a quick half thought comment about relieving Techno and Phil’s exile until after the memorial, and then locked himself in his office.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t sure what had happened. It remembered flying high above an orange ocean before falling down to swim. It didn’t swim for long.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It had discs. It remembered the discs, the discs had meant something. It hums one, it thinks it’s the disc ‘Chirp’, it’s voice gargled and raspy. It remembers a compass. The compass would lead home.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It stood up on shaky legs, stretched out its large flaming orange wings and began it’s search for the compass.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The compass hadn’t been hard to find. It was close to where it woke up. The compass was named ‘My Tubbo’, the compass’ name reminded it it’s name was Theseus.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Theseus felt a sour feeling enter his mouth at the name, but Theseus needed to get home rather than worry about that. Wherever home was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On the way home, Theseus passed by a lake. He knew he couldn’t touch the water, the water would hurt his wings, but he stared into it. It was different than his orange ocean, lava a piglin had told him. Theseus knew he looked different, but wasn’t sure exactly what had changed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was covered in soot and dirt, hot orange tears always seemed to be falling from his eyes, his wings glew softly surrounding him in a soft yellow light, drips of lava and feathers of fire and embers would fall from them occasionally. His hands and feet were burned black like the shores of the lava ocean.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Theseus’ eyes were blue. Like the lake. Everything else reminded him of his orange ocean, except his eyes. A small headache formed as images of people he recognized but couldn’t but a name too entered his mind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A blond birdman like him. A young boy with horns and a big smile. A piglin hybrid with bright blue weapons. A tall musician with fire in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Theseus frowned. Theseus liked remembering, but he only seemed to remember the bad things. Remember people who had hurt him. He hoped his Tubbo hadn’t hurt him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His stare flipped back and forth between his wings and eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The birdman was named Phil. Phil had killed the musician. Phil had hurt Theseus.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lava burned hotter as it slid down Theseus’ cheeks. He needed to get home.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Theseus had learned he hated loud noises. Loud noises reminded him of the musician. Flashes of the musician’s loud joyful laugh turning to screechy shouts demanding revenge and death. Explosions going off around him, before Theseus could handle fire. His skin burns hot when he thinks of the musician. Theseus knows the musician is dead. Theseus still misses Wilbur.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He also sees the masked man. The masked man was loud in the way that his voice was everywhere, telling Theseus to put his belongings in a hole so the masked man could blow them up. The masked man made him feel sick around the color green. He hated the masked man. He hated Dream.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Theseus would also see the young boy that liked bees dying in his arms. A loud firework had been shot into his chest and killed him. The piglin had done that, before surrounding Theseus in flashes and bursts of destruction. The piglin’s loud voice screaming Thesues’ name before demanding for his death rang in his ears. Theseus was scared of the piglin, he was scared of Technoblade.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Whenever Theseus remembered the rivers of lava falling down his face would get worse, burning the grass or branches below him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As it became more frequent, he had learned how to continue on his journey despite the tears blurring his vision. The closer he got to home, the more he remembered what had happened to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His death was clearer now. He had jumped. He hadn’t wanted to come back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yet he was cursed to remain forever. The undying flame of the phoenix, always destined to rise from the ashes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Theseus felt less happy the more he remembered. The boy with the large smile had been Theseus’ best friend before he had banished him. Theseus remembers the cold, the loneliness, the betrayal. His Tubbo was the one to lead him to Theseus’ orange ocean.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wishes he could hate His Tubbo, but he still yearned for His Tubbo’s hugs and laugh and smile. He wants the boy to be there with him. He hates himself for wishing for someone that doesn’t care.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, he would remember the warm things. A girl with pink hair, Niki he thinks, baking and laughing at something the musician, Wilbur had said. The piglin and the bird, Technoblade and Phil sparring. Excited voices screaming and cheering for Theseus, for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy liked those memories. They felt so warm and fuzzy his tears would burn though his shirt as they dripped down. He likes thinking about what once was his family, it tells him he wasn’t always hated. People had loved him once. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe people could love him again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hoped he could still be loved, even as a monster.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Walking up to the gates of his home resembled the grainy image of it in his head. The sign above the gate stating it to be L’manberg. L’manberg was something the musician, Wilbur had created.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy felt his body feel much warmer as pushed the gate open and walked along the streets of the familiar yet foreign city. His ears could pick up a multitude of sounds coming from one area, one he assumed to be the city square.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His wings remained tense, because even with the knowledge that he wouldn’t die, Tommy still knew he could be walking into a group of people that wanted him dead. As he got closer he saw flowers and signs. Had someone passed? Should he have gotten a gift to give the family?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The closer he got, the better he saw a large picture displayed on a stage behind a podium. The picture looked familiar. Tommy hadn’t seen the boy in his memories before. Had he joined the city when Tommy had left?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy was now standing right in front of the stage and was carefully following the sign below the picture.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>20XX-20XX</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Theseus ‘Tommy’ Innit</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A beloved hero and friend</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, it was a funeral for him, but why? He knew he was hated, so why would he have a funeral? He didn’t get much time to ponder on it before he was started out of his thoughts by a voice he could barely connect to a face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“T-Tommy? What happened to you?” His Tubbo was sad. Maybe Tommy shouldn’t have come back.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. an enfero , while beautiful , will always destroy everything around them</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>theseus hated forgetting , tommy hated remembering .</p><p>trigger warning: panic attacks , implied/mentioned abuse , depersonalization (tommy sees himself as two seperate people and sometimes refers to himself in the third person)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tubbo had assumed it was someone that had somehow managed to get into L’manberg, despite the gates being closed to anyone that wasn’t formally invited or had never lived there before, but judging by the large and powerful wings the boy could have flown over. Maybe he should’ve listened to Quackity’s ideas of ariel guards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Tubbo pondered what the boy could possibly be a hybrid of, I mean he has never seen a bird with flaming wings like that even in the nether, not to mention his jet black hands and feet that made the boy look like he had been playing with soot. Maybe a blaze hybrid? But the wings? Whatever, what was more important was escorting the boy away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was just a few feet behind the boy when he saw the compass in the blonds hand. Tubbo paused, bewildered because the golden compass looked much too similar to his. It had a faint sheen of purple even through the dirt caked on it and something had been engraved onto the back of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With shaky hands he pulled out his own compass, an item he had been avoiding looking at because the arrow that would’ve begun malfunctioning the second Tommy died would just solidify the fact that his best friend was </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because Tubbo listened to Dream. Tubbo looked down at the shining glass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The arrow pointed directly to the blond boy in front of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“T-Tommy? What happened to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bright orange wings dripping with lava and embers twitched slightly and then Tubbo was face to face with Tommy. His eyes were the same blue, the blue that reminded Tubbo of the sky and the ocean and all the adventures they would have gone on had they not gotten caught up in pointless wars. The blue eyes he had missed so, so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much stared back at him with a small spark of concern.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s face remained blank, letting Tubbo to absorb everything that was different. From the blond’s eyes was a constant stream of bright orange tears that Tubbo assumed were lava, his ears were pointed upwards, similar to Phil’s, his clothes were filthy and torn, and Tommy was way too skinny for Tubbo to feel anything but disgust and bone crushing guilt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the now winged Tommy, raised the compass in his hand showing it to Tubbo. His voice was scratchy and raspy as he spoke as if he hadn’t used it in weeks, was Tommy alone this whole time? “You’re My Tubbo?” He coughed, “The compass leads me to My Tubbo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hearing ‘my Tubbo’ was another punch to the fucking gut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The president’s throat felt tight, so he just nodded, trying desperately not to cry. Tommy smiled and his wings dimmed slightly, his posture immediately becoming less tense, though he still kept a few feet between them. “You are My Tubbo, you look different. The boy I saw in my mind had horns, did you lose your horns?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tubbo shook his head, “N-no, I can control when I look like a ram. I stopped, like, having them out a few weeks ago. They felt weird.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy frowned and hummed. “Is it because of the Ram? He had gotten rid of me too, did you not like looking like the Ram?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His blood froze and tears finally spilled. Why was Tommy being so fucking nice? Tubbo was the reason he was dead?! Why couldn’t Tommy be loud and obnoxious and call him an idiot for actually thinking he was dead, or just anything other than this stupidly calm Tommy that was so different than </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tommy? Tubbo nodded as he sobbed words finding him again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-yes, god Tommy, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t even fucking look at my horns and ears without thinking of Schlatt, a-and how you told m-me not to become him, and I DID! I became the man that we both fucking hated, and I got you killed, fuck I’m so sorry, Tommy, just stop being nice to me, I don’t deserve it! Don’t you hate me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tubbo wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the warm body of Tommy pressed up against him holding him tight wasn’t it. Tubbo hated it. He didn’t deserve Tommy’s kindness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never hated you,” The blond’s raspy voice broke through his quickly panicking mind, “I was sad that My Tubbo didn’t like me, but I never hated you. Not before I flew and not when I remembered that you sent me to the island with the masked man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There, in the middle of the town square, the president sat there held against his friend bawling his eyes out, ignoring the piercing burn as Tommy’s own tears fell onto his back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s tears were lava.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That had just made Tubbo cry more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Theseus trusted his Tubbo, so grabbing the short boy to comfort him was an easy decision to make. He focused on keeping calm so he wouldn’t accidentally burn the sad boy. The boy cried, and cried, and cried, but unlike Theseus, his tears eventually came to an end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His Tubbo pulled away, looking upset with puffy red eyes and a frown. The brunet mumbled a few more apologies before standing up and brushing off whatever had been on his suit. Theseus briefly glazed down at his clothes, they looked much worse than his Tubbo’s clothes, but he had probably done something bad to deserve the bad clothes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His Tubbo gave a deep sigh before pulling out the strange beeping device Theseus had thrown in a lake. The boy’s fingers moved quickly, tapping against it’s strange glass like top, and once it had made the loud, annoying beep that had caused Theseus to get rid of it in the first place His Tubbo turned back to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, for crying on you like that,” A hand ran through the messy brown hair, “We, uh, we need to see Ghostbur and the... others. So we can try and figure out why you had come back as a hybrid rather than a ghost.” Theseus just nodded, not wanting to annoy his Tubbo by refusing, and also racking his brain trying to figure out what a ‘ghostbur’ was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You remember who you are, right?” Theseus nodded again, but when that was met with silence he spoke again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am Theseus. I can fly and my orange ocean gave me my wings. I have a disc I must return to a woman named Clara, she is an astronaut. Most people, or maybe everyone hates me, and that is why I was forced to leave.” Theseus frowned upon seeing his Tubbo make a distress expression. Had he not answered correctly? He didn’t have anything his Tubbo could blow up. Maybe the smaller boy would just hurt him instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-okay, that’s, that’s a start. Also, you can just call me Tubbo,” His device beeped loudly, Theseus’ ears twitched, “Alright, let’s go. Ghostbur is freaking out I guess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two began walking, in complete silence, with Theseus focusing very hard on not letting his wings touch the ground to much so nothing burned, whenever things had burnt, bad things would happen to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you go by Theseus now? You used to hate that name?” Hi- Just Tubbo suddenly said, sounding tired.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Tommy is for when I remember, but Tommy’s sadder. It’s easier to be Theseus. Theseus remember’s being alone, but he doesn’t remember everything that happened while he was alone.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence consumed them again, this time with Tubbo looking straight ahead, his eyes wet with tears once again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Theseus frowned again, was Tubbo taking him somewhere to punish him? Is that what the ghostbur is for?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ghostbur was with Techno and Phil, he remembered feeling like when he had first come back. Terrified and sick with worry, but not for himself, for Tommy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The spitfire blond that was a brother in both Ghostbur’s life and his death.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The spitfire blond that Ghostbur had felt enter the void, far sooner than he should have.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before the communicators beeped alerting the other two of what had happened, the dead man broke down, wondering if he could’ve saved his brother.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Theseus walked into the unfamiliar building, he was met with a rush of too many emotions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Confusion, upon seeing the musician, who Theseus watched die.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betrayal, upon realizing that Tubbo had brought him to people that hated Theseus’ guts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fear, upon noticing that he was boxed in a room with the man that had killed his brother and the man that had tried to kill him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He spread his wings out, instincts screaming at him to frighten the predator away, feeling and seeing them rise in temperature as the dull orange light surrounding him was replaced by a bright yellow that he knew would burn them if they came too close.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Theseus didn’t have weapons, but he could burn through the ceiling and fly away, or maybe fight. The piglin had glowing purple armour, Theseus didn’t know how strong that was, while the other two had nothing on to protect them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tommy! Stop, calm down!” The yell made him falter and turn back to glare at the brunet. “Fuck, they aren’t gonna hurt you! I promise, please calm down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes flicked between Tubbo and the three that all looked either calm or had positioned themselves to look less threatening. Theseus lowered his wings, he stayed tense ready for when Tubbo would break his promise of safety.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three sat down, staring at Theseus with tired eyes, too many emotions that he had yet to figure out in them. They didn’t say anything waiting for him to move first. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only when Tubbo sat down, did Theseus follow suit creating a larger distance between him and Tubbo, feeling much more wary of the boy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, I take it you remember us, nothing too good it seems,” The bird, Phil, said with a laugh but Theseus knew the laugh was fake. It made his stomach twist in knots. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t say anything, only nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was quiet again. Not in the good way it had been with Tubbo on the way here, it felt heavy and gross.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he finally had enough, Theseus broke the silence. “How is he alive? I watched you kill him.” He got no response. “The musician. W- Wilbur. He’s dead. I watched him die. Y-y-you killed him! How is he alive? How are you alive?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was quiet again before the piglin finally spoke. “Wilbur isn’t alive. He is a ghost. He never came back. This is Ghostbur, he doesn't have all his memories so he never really attached to the idea of being who he was when he was still alive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Theseus hummed. The musician wasn’t back. He was just a ghost. “Tom-Theseus, they wanted to meet you because they were worried about you, when you died they came here to make sure it wasn’t a mistake or anything. Now, I also think they are probably the only people that would be able to figure out why you had come back, like alive and all lava-ey.” Tubbo explained quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t make sense,” His brows furrowed deep, the piglin and bird wanted him dead, and now they were worried about him? Theseus wasn’t stupid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What doesn’t make sense?” Phil asked softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You killed the musician, he was important to me! And, and, the piglin, last thing he had said to me was for me to die! I’m not a fuckng moron! Tell me why you ‘care’ or I’m, I’m, I don’t know but I won’t help you or anything!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The piglin cringed, probably upon having his shitty facade seen through so easily. The ghost started crying, for a reason unknown to Theseus. The bird signed deeply, seeming to be on the verge of tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Toms. We don’t hate you,” The blond started, “It was, we messed up. I’m so sorry, for hurting you. Leaving you behind and running off again. I could never hate you, you’re my son.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Theseus froze. Flashes of images of the bird, the piglin, the musician and him together. They were all young. Phil being far too gentle to the boy he would later betray. Technoblade smiling too widely at a boy he would threaten to kill just a few years later. Wilbur was far too calm around the boy that he would destroy the home of.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why didn’t Theseus remember his father?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“B-but, a dad doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> that, you can’t be my dad! You can’t! You destroyed everything and then left! A dad doesn’t do that!” Why was it so hard to breathe? “W-w-we can’t be a family! Because what am I if I can’t even be loved by my family? How can I be anything if my own family hated me?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something had begun burning, a small part of him terrified at what would happen to him for burning something, the smoke was miniscule but caused Tommy to freak out even more. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he had his back pressed to a wall, legs tense ready to run.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no, no! You’re lying! Stop lying to me!” There were voices. Voices of people that hurt him. He was trapped again. They all wanted to hurt him. They would cut off his wings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had messed up. If he got too loud Wilbur would yell and hit him, would that happen again? Techno could easily take his wings, take them away from Tommy for daring to share something like the sky with Phil. Phil would just watch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy was never the favorite. For anyone. He knew that, and around him was everyone he had disappointed so fucking badly. Oh god, where the fuck was he.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You hate me! You hate me! I know you do! Stop lying, I’m not stupid!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Smoke surrounded him, filling his lung, choking him and reminding him of when he was stuck with Dream alone. Fuck. Something was going to blow up. What did Tommy have that he could lose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His discs. He couldn’t lose those. They meant so much to him! The discs meant, they meant, what did they mean?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hand came close to him and he screamed wings spreading out and curling around him, a protective wall of fire and lava and death surrounding Tommy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop! Stop! Stop! I’m sorry! Please, please just don’t take the discs, please I don’t have any armor or anything!” Someone said something to Tommy, he had to listen. Dream would get mad if he had to repeat himself for the blond.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hand touched his face, forcing him to stare directly into the eyes of Wilbur. Wilbur must be mad at him. “Wilbur, Wilbur, please, please, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again! Please don’t hurt me again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s hand remained gentle and Tommy then noticed the tears trailing down the pale man’s cheeks. When had Wilbur gotten so pale?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fire and smoke continued to grow and grow as Tommy continued to focus on Wilbur, his emotions still not leveling out enough for the destruction to stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Too much was going on. He was in danger. Where was Tubbo? Tubbo promised to keep him safe. He opened his mouth to scream but instead thick smoke filled his lungs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy closed his eyes, his last thought hoping he would at least be killed in his sleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>did i cry writing this ? maybe .</p><p>anyway hope yall enjoyed</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. memories hurt if you only look for pain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>leading up to tommy finally waking up</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Phil knew he was far from a perfect parent, but seeing two dead sons in front of him was too much.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Having to face the reality he was a god awful father was too much.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Seeing Tommy in so much pain because of him was too much.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered if some god up above wanted to torture him, torment him with all his failures.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A more optimistic part of him hoped this was a second chance.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Staring at his sleeping son, who looked so distressed and hurt even in sleep, made Phil feel far more tired than he probably should. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Exhaustion clung to the bones of everyone in the house, no one really sleeping, more just forcing themselves to relax while they took turns watching Tommy, waiting for him to wake up. Honestly, he wanted to sleep too, just wanted to crawl into his bed and wait for when none of his loved ones suffered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But then again, he was one of the reasons they suffered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy shifted a bit, wings pitch black resting tensely around him, ash and soot smearing on the sheets and blankets he was wrapped up in. Phil sighed, he just wanted his son to wake up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil just wanted to apologize. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Be the father Tommy needed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The young blond didn’t seem to agree though, after his panic attack the young boy (god he was so fucking young) passed out, the fire of his wings dying quickly, and for once the tears stopped. Tommy had been out for days, barely moving, even his chest was eerily still.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil never did much when it was his turn to watch Tommy, he usually sat there getting lost in thought, eyes glued to the boy in hopes to see even a little bit more movement than usual.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The boy didn’t wake up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ghostbur wasn’t Wilbur, everyone knew that but he still remembered some of his life. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As much as he hated it, staring into the eyes of his terrified brother made him remember Pogtopia. Remember Tommy’s first exile and his last. Ghostbur remembered he wasn’t a good man. At least not in the months leading up to his death.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The ghost wished Tommy had come back like he did, happier with few memories of the horrors the young boy faced. He didn’t like seeing Tommy hurt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Seeing Tommy hurt reminded the ghost of distant days filled with soft music and young laughs and wooden swords hitting against each other. Reminded him of sore knuckles stained red with blood after hitting a boy far too young, forcing children to fight for a lost cause, screaming at an innocent boy that just wanted to help.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ghostbur didn’t really remember the music he used to play, but he hoped trying to sing for Tommy would make it easier for the blond to wake up. Clumsy blue fingers strung cords too hard or too soft, voice raspy from crying, and barely coherent words strung together into a song.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Watching the boy hurt, so Ghostbur closed his eyes or turned away, focused entirely on his music.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy still didn’t wake up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo was never meant to be president. Was never meant to hurt Tommy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And yet here he was, face to face with his best friend in a comatose state because Tubbo cared more about what Dream wanted than the one constant in his life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His arms and back were bandaged up, burns from lava and fire spilling from Tommy’s eyes and wings stinging those around him. Though Tubbo couldn’t really bring himself to care. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t care about anything other than helping his friend, he just wanted to make things right. He had already handed off responsibility to Quackity and Fundy, only telling them he was busy and didn’t know when he would be back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The president wondered if this was the only path he could have walked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Was he always meant to be the next Schlatt? Hurting everyone around him to move ahead.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Was Tommy always meant to be the next Wilbur? Dying for nothing other than a lost cause.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At least Schlatt died, the older ram had been able to escape the consequences of his actions, even if he didn’t really want to. Tubbo wished he could escape. At least then he could finally have a break, finally be with Tommy again and go on the adventures they were meant to go on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s face scrunched up briefly, a small whimper leaving his mouth before he relaxed again, going silent once more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The young ram sighed, he stood up briefly to reset the jukebox he had moved into the room a day after Tommy passed out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cat filled the room, notes falling on deaf ears, but they at least covered the quiet sniffles coming from the president.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Technoblade wasn’t known for his emotional intelligence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He could read people fairly well, but he rarely knew how to react. Techno had recognized Tommy’s spiral downward when he had visited him in the beginning of the blond’s exile, but had no idea what to say or do.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With the wounds from betrayal still stinging and ignorance on how to help, the piglin pushed down the worry, convincing himself that he no longer cared for the loud, annoying kid.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The piglin hybrid was truthful, always blunt, speaking his mind easily, so the lie did little to ease the knot in his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He thought briefly of the visit, Tommy was already a bit flighty, not to the point it was concercing, but enough to make Techno’s chat scream at him to do something. He stayed the night, keeping his distance from the young soldier. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He saw the nervousness and fear when Dream arrived at the small camp. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno rarely regretted his actions, finding ways to justify what he had done, even if he hurt someone. He regretted leaving Tommy there. Leaving Tommy alone. Turning his back on his last living brother.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe if he had returned later on, or stayed just a bit longer Tommy would still be here. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It did little to dwell on the past, he had done what he had done, but staring at his brother's sleeping face scared and burnt and bruised, it was hard to not wish he had been better.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy was never meant to be like the hero he was named after. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno wasn’t sure if he was Lycomedes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wouldn’t that be poetic. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One brother killed by the angel of death, the other killed by the blood god.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A father and son, left alone because of their own selfishness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno continued to watch out the window, looking on as it was entirely too peaceful in the snow covered terrain, thinking only of his brother. Ghostbur and Tubbo played music for Tommy to help him wake up. Maybe he should read to the young soldier.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Memories of a small Tommy begging for Techno’s stories of old gods and heroes filled his mind. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A tightness filled his throat and chest. He’ll grab the book soon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy wasn’t Theseus.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Except he was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One mind, one body, one set of memories.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were trapped in a dark room together, both too tired to fight to get out, both relieved to finally rest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy found it strange to stare at the other boy who looked so different, who was somehow an entirely different person while also being an exact replica of him. He wonders if there is a Wilbur inside of Ghostbur’s head, a Wilbur that is content to just relax and be happy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If there is, Tommy thinks he might understand why no matter how much he screamed at the ghost for his brother back Wilbur never came back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The other boy, Theseus, Tommy still hated that name, had his eyes closed. He was unmoving but his large wings filled the room with warm light. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When we wake up, do you still wish to stay here?” Theseus’ voice was distorted, scratchy, comforting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy shrugged. He was never one to back away from his problems, although usually facing them meant pushing them aside and hoping they would go away. It never really worked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He thought of who was waiting for him. Phil, his father that never really filled that roll. Techno, hated Tommy for betraying him. Ghostbur, a shadow of the brother he wished he could have right now. Tubbo, a boy that threw him out in the name of the country Tommy had built.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A part of him wanted to stay in this room forever, just him and Theseus, finally having the chance to heal. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another part wanted to leave, try and return to normalcy, or at least how ever normal you can get after jumping into lava and being fucking reborn as a flaming bird.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe if he woke up he could try again, and this time succeed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know it won’t work. We can’t die like that anymore, we will come back from the orange ocean more hurt than we already are,” Theseus sighed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, but I can still hope can’t I,” Tommy scoffed in response, “Not like I would anyway, I gotta take Dream the fuck out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bird hybrid remained silent, signalling Tommy to keep on with his self deprecating train of thought.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy contemplated remaining here, alone in a dark room with only an amnesiac version of him for company, or wake up, having to face the music of a symphony written by people that hated him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He has a second chance, he supposes he might as well take it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sorry for taking so long!! wasnt really sure what to write then i lost my computer 😔😔 but i am bacl now !!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. mind heavy , words loud , im the family dissapointment baby</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tommy woke up feeling like shit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His limbs were heavy, his lungs burned, his mouth tasted of blood, and he was much colder than he remembered being, whatever he was laying on was rubbing unbearably against his skin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A hacking cough that threatened to pull up bile escaped his mouth causing him to reach blindly out for anything to soothe his ripped and dry throat. His hand knocked against something on a table, the sound of liquid falling to the floor making him wince.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Opening his eyes was harder than expected, light burning them dry and old tears feeling like an awful face mask on his cheeks, but he got it done and was face to face with the musician.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, Ghostbur, the musician was dead.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ghostbur stared quietly, looking nervous and flighty. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy motioned to his throat with a soot stained hand before pretending to drink a glass of water. The ghost nodded and got up far too quickly for Tommy to feel like the brunet actually wanted to be there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Footsteps and murmured voices filled the air, an image of a young piglin reading stories, view blurred by illness and exhaustion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door opened, Tommy was too tired to turn his head so opted to just wait for them to speak.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A warm mug was placed gently in his hand, some tea he didn’t recognize. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey mate, how you feeling? Gave us a bit of  a scare there,” Phil said, softer than usual followed by a dry, humorless laugh. Tommy shrugged, “You’re wings, they aren’t all fiery anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hummed, the sound scratching at his esophagus, “I think they only burn when I am new and when I am dying,” A small sip, there was a sickening amount of honey in the tea, he liked that, “My ocean told me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your ocean?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhm, my orange ocean. It’s quite beautiful. It gave me my wings because I wanted to fly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was silent again, the meaning behind the words filling the room with something tense.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lava,” the elder sighed, “It was lava, not an ocean, but I’m sure it was pretty, mate.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know.” Tommy spared a glance to Phil’s large wings, feathers shiny and neat, unlike his own. He didn’t know how to take care of them yet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about what you remember? We just want to know if we can help,” at Phil’s soft words a strange surge of red hot anger filled him. The urge to scream and yell and tarnish those shiny feathers made him feel twitchy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he just nodded, and silently asked for another cup of tea.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a weird procedure, Techno and Phil were in the room, calmly asking questions and prodding for answers as Tubbo and Ghostbur sat next to the door in the hallway, soft sniffles occasionally reaching Tommy’s ears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He answered easily, well as easy one can with a ripped up fucking throat, but he made due despite that fact. Their voices floated easily through the cotton filling his ears, gently bubbling and rolling through his mind like a stream. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once Tommy can leave the bed again he’ll try and find a stream, or maybe a river. He wonders if his wings can touch water now. Probably not, but maybe.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did someone push you into the lava?” Techno was blunt, Tommy liked that, though he wasn’t used enough to the man’s voice to be able to pick up the emotions in his usually monotone voice. Despite this, he noticed the uncomfortable shift Phil made.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head, no one was around enough to kill him, Dream had stopped visiting a bit before he jumped. Ghostbur had been gone for even longer. It had been only him. When he had relayed this a sharp intake of breath from the hallway made him flinch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you remember about yourself?” Tubbo had asked that when Tommy had first arrived, but the answer was different now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My name is Tommy. Nobody likes me on the server. Many people want me dead. I had a friend, his name was Henry, someone killed him though. When I jumped, I made sure it was like I was flying, because I would need to fly to meet Clara. I have something of hers, and I need to return it to it’s rightful owner.” He sounded like Technoblade, he realized, voice flat, words blunt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No one wants you dead.” Maybe before he flew, had he heard such firm words from his father, Tommy would have believed him. Maybe he would’ve found the strength to keep moving on, to keep his feet on the ground.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But Tommy had flown high above the server, had seen the stars, had seen crystals raining from the sky as an astronaut greeted him warmly hair holding galaxies and eyes filled with far too much love, before he came plummeting back down, crashing into his ocean of lava.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now, Tommy had died, and his father only cared because of guilt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“‘You want to be a hero Tommy? Then die like one,” He finally turned his head, meeting Techno’s eyes straight on, red clashing with blue, “You said that to me before releasing monsters on my home, before destroying everything me and the musician had worked for.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He ignored the heavy sigh, “You killed Tubbo, you killed Wilbur, you destroyed all I loved and you expect me to believe you don’t want me dead? You don’t care for traitors, correct? Then you shouldn't have cared whether I lived or died.” That familiar pit of anger bubbled in his stomach, deep and hot, twisting and thrashing violently, making him sick, “How many more sons will you have to lose before you realize you failed? That you had a favorite and no matter how much he hurt your family you would never care, all because he was strong, because he was a warrior, because he was easier to use. Loyal and willing to kill.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Techno could have ripped me apart and no matter what I said you would let him because I hurt his feelings. Because I deserve it. Because I had more than just you to lean on. Because acting as though one child is always right makes it easier to ignore the fact that you were never there. That you never cared.” The cotton had left his ears, it was more of a soft buzzing now. It was annoying.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, that’s not-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You and Wilbur are a lot alike, he truly is your son. You know which children would make good weapons don’t you guys. Or maybe you actually see him as a person, as a kid you have to take care of, because Notch knows you didn’t see me and Wilbur like that.” Tommy kept his breathing level, “You know when Wilbur died, he had planned for me to be on top of TNT, he planned to kill me. It makes me wonder how you all viewed me, seeing how easy it was for you to turn your weapons on me.” His cheeks were burning but the bubbling sludge in his stomach was clawing at his throat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It makes me wonder what monsters you guys are, so willing to kill a child, kill your sons, your brother,” his throat was too tight now, “Makes me wonder what kind of monster I am, that even my own family stopped loving me, if they ever did.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Tommy looked again Phil was crying, wings drooped low, brushing against the ground. “Tommy, I never meant for it to be like this, I’m sorry.” His anger made him continue on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Had I been stronger would you have loved me? If I was a warrior like Techno would I be worthy of attention. If I was a musician, a businessman, and a liar like Wil would you have cared, would I get praise? Or is it always meant to be like this? Am I only meant to be the fuck up everyone blames? Some pest no one loves? The hero for everyone to blame in some shitty retelling of a tragedy? The annoying little brother that failed to stop the only person that actually cared from killing himself!” His voice was so loud, it was strange knowing you could make your throat and head hurt just from speaking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you think it’s my fault. Everyone does, because who cares about me when I’m still alive? No one cared to hear about what I went through, what a dickhead Wilbur was at the end, that despite all the times he yelled and hit and hurt me, I still loved him because no one else loved </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And the only reason you care is because you feel bad! Guilt is a shit emotion isn’t it!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Calm down, take a de-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this all I had to do to finally have a father, all I had to do was jump in some fucking lava and you would have decided to be a good parent for once? All I had to do to get my brother back was kill myself? And even then it’s not about me, is it, it’s about you not wanting to feel guilty, about you not wanting to feel like the shitty fucking family you are!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s glad his wings weren’t flaming anymore, he’s sure they would’ve set the house ablaze by now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate you! Because you never loved me and only started pretending to make yourself feel better!” His cheeks were burning much more now, he realized now tears were falling heavy and thick, burning holes into the blanket resting over his legs. “I hate that despite everything I did I never got to have a dad, I hate that I could never impress my oldest brother, I hate that I flew hoping to see you in the sky next to me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just wanted my dad. I just wanted my brothers. Why couldn’t I?” His breathing was uneven, choppy and tears slipped into his mouth, burning his tongue. Tommy dug the heel of his palms into his eyes, trying desperately to push back the tears, just wanting to go back to sleep and not face the Phil or Techno and their stupid tears that made </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel bad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Whether they sensed Tommy’s throat was now too tight to talk, clamped around all the words that wished to spill from his lips, or they wanted to fill the tense silence surrounding them, they shifted in their seats a bit as Techno spoke up, voice strained, “I’m sorry Tommy, for not being there for you. I am, truly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>From the few fuzzy memories he had that included Techno comforting him, he supposed this was as good as he would get. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Son, I want to make it up to you, you don’t have to forgive me, because I don’t think I deserve it, but I want to be the father you deserve.” Phil was rambling, voice shaky from his own tears, “Notch, Tommy, I never blamed you, I promise I never did, it was-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The cotton filled his ears once more, though he remained focused on the blond man speaking frantically, but it was hard to focus on words when you were crying. Muffled words passed through his brain, vaguely registered in the scramble of fuzzy memories and scattered thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After, well Tommy doesn’t know honestly, Techno left the room, followed by Tubbo and Ghostbur. Phil sat next to him still, maybe waiting for a response? “I’m tired, Phil.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil sighed, heavy and tired as well, “That’s okay, you can rest.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he shifted to stand, Tommy watched him carefully, focusing on the neat feathers, well groomed and brightly colored. “Phil?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, mate?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you teach me how to take care of my wings?” A strange mix of emotions passed through Phil’s face, confusion, joy, other things that Tommy was too tired to identify.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s- That’s a very intimate thing to do, really only done with family and partners,” He paused, shifting on his feet, whether from excitement or nervousness Tommy wouldn’t know, “Are you sure?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy wanted a couple things and clean, preened wings was one of them. His dad was another.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cautiously, he nodded, extending the olive branch to Phil, lips too heavy to talk. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ignoring the </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> that sparked in his chest, making it warm in a way that he wasn’t used to, at the small happy flaps of Phil’s wings and his low, barely there chirps.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me whenever you want to start,” Voice soft, the elder smiled before turning out the door, leaving Tommy alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Soft chirps drifted up from downstairs, excited chatters from the other avian as he most likely rambled on to Techno edged up to the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling far more comfortable than before, Tommy settled down into the warm bed, falling asleep easily.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey</p></blockquote></div></div>
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